Anxiety Bleeding
by Moviemuncher
Summary: Murphamy au Bellamy can't help but notice that cocky John Murphy has suddenly become not so cocky at all. His only true friend appeared to be Mbege, and Murphy was obviously pushing him away. So Mbege approaches Bellamy asking for a favour. Mbege and Bellamy don't get on either so Bellamy can't understand why be agrees.
1. Chapter 1

Murphamy au.

Anxiety Bleeding

Summary: Bellamy can't help but notice that cocky John Murphy has suddenly become not so cocky at all. His only true friend appeared to be Mbege, and Murphy was obviously pushing him away. So Mbege approaches Bellamy asking for a favour. Mbege and Bellamy don't get on either so Bellmy can't understand why be agreed.

Bellamy watches across the office floor as Mbege stops by Murphy's desk as the boss reams Murphy for a late article. Mbege looks angry but is obviously trying to school his features into a reassuring calm. Murphy, instead of arguing back like usual, glares at his desk. His lips are pursed but his eyes are too downcast to be truly insubordinate or anything like his usual behaviour. Mbege seems to be slowly sidling up to Murphy's shoulder like usual although the concern seems to be a bit much. It's a simple and fair reprimand, he had a week to write a 3,000 word article. Most reporters could do that. He was supposed to hand it in for editing the day before and it would be published tomorrow on a page full of similar articles about homosexual marriage and LGBT rights. Now he had until midnight to write, edit himself, and submit to the publishing team.

Bellamy returned to his work on the feminist movement in the modern world. Their magazine was rightfully called "Wide Eyed" as it often broached subjects only an open mind would was designed to educate people, typically forty or over (and often male), an audience who either find it interesting or need and want educating However, from what he'd seen of Murphy (and Mbege) he didn't exactly fit the bill. He was often mean and belittling people.

He'd read a few of his articles about poverty amongst families with children and they seemed alright. They had lacked the judgementt he'd expected from the man. Mbege was similar but he was the writer who was often focused on articles regarding social anxieties. He often travelled too, dealing with politicians and advocates of the free world for a good scoop on the rights of minority groups.

The boss, Mr Jaha, stalked off muttering furiously.

Bellamy looked over to see Mbege sitting on the corner of Murphy's desk. He was leaning over it so Bellamy couldn't see Murphy's face but he could see his hands clenched on the table. Mbege rea head hand over one whilst his other held him up on the desk. His fingers trailed over Murphy's hand and due to the steadiness of Mbege's hand he could see Murphy's was shaking. It wasn't too noticeable, just a tremble as opposed to a quake but it was surprisingly jarring.

Murphy pulled his hand away and Mbege let him. He moved off the desk and Murphy became easily visible but before he could take in the details Murphy looked up and directly at him. Bellamy ducked his head, slowly. He was embarrassed at getting caught but he wasn't going to let Murphy know that. Murphy spoke to Mbege and Mbege walked over.

Bellamy cursed, he didn't want to fight.

Mbege leaned over his desk, hands on the corners. He didn't seem pissed but his eyes were challenging as Bellamy defiantly looked up. He scanned Mbege up and down before leaning back in his chair coolly.

"You're supposed to be a decent guy right? You do the gay rights and stuff."

"Actually, more feminism work." Bellamy corrected. Mbege pursed his lips.

"Whatever, equality is the same no matter where it's preached or why. My point is, you believe in it?"

"Of course I do, why else would I write it?" Bellamy asked perplexed. Mbege shrugged, his thin but muscular frame cut an imposingly disinterested figure.

"Pay. But that's not really the conversation we're having. I need a decent guy to do me a favour." Mbege stared at him, pinning him in place with his sincerity and concern. Bellamy wasn't stupid, it was obviously Murphy-orientated.

"What?" Bellamy asked. He was curious and considering he did not like Murphy so much as tolerate him he didn't genuinely think he'd agree.

"Murphy is having a rough time. I can tell but he won't tell me why and he's pulling away. Normally we'd go out for a smoke and talk. Even though he doesn't smoke." Mbege paused, and looked Bellamy up and down. He seemed to be evaluating him, sensing what he could share. "I was gonna ask if you'd keep an eye on him."

Bellamy froze. The honest care from a man who usually seemed like a generic dickhead surprised him. And had him worried too, was Murphy truly hurting? Most likely. His attitude was off and if what Mbege was saying was true...

"Alright. I'll try." Bellamy swore.

"Good" Mbege nodded his gratitude with an assertive look. He then left Bellamy's space and entered Murphy's to briefly speak to him.

Bellamy looker back at his own work.

+++ 10pm

Bellamy was logging off and shutting down his computer. He'd worked late to complete his deadline a day early and email it to editing first thing. He noticed only one other desk lit by the monitor. It was Murphy's, Bellamy had seen Mbege try drag him away earlier but Murphy had refused. He'd gotten quite aggressive about it but quiet. Yanking his arm from Mbege's, squaring up and obviously snapping at the other guy. But also flinching when Mbege tried to reach for him again.

So Bellamy dropped his coat on the desk and walked over. Murphy was squinting at the monitor and typing slowly, obviously tired. He looked up when Bellamy got close enough.

"I was wondering if you'd like me to proof read before you send it to editing?" Bellamy sounded more calm than he felt. He was actually worried for some reason. He'd seen Mbege read over every piece of Murphy's work before the sent it up, often pointing at the screen and Murphy would edit it. Maybe Murphy would let him do it of it needed doing

Murphy regarded him suspiciously.

"I'd rather you didn't." He said and stood, "I'm getting coffee."

Murphy walked around the desk and away quickly. Bellamy's would feel insulted if it didn't feel as though Murphy was trying to escape some form of embarrassment. A vibrating noise made him jump and he saw a small rectangle of blue light. It was Murphy's phone. He saw the caller ID.

Dillon

He wondered who Dillon was and if the call would be important. So he picked the phone up and jogged to the coffee machine. He handed Murphy the phone. Murphy looked at the name and swiped his thumb immediately.

"Hey" he muttered quickly. Bdlla!my stepped back to offer some privacy.

"No. I'm at work. I called you earlier and you didn't answer so I... No, I got Mbege to text you." Murphy was whispering but Bellamy could bear every word. Why would he get Mbege to text this person?

"I was late handing in my article... It's your fault, if you hadn't-"

Hadn't what? Bellamy thinks but doesn't voice because then he would show he'd eaves dropped.

"Right. Okay, I'll be at the flat before one." Bellamy noticed that Murphy's tone was meeker. The defiance dropped and replaced by a shyness. He also said "at the flat" as opposed to home.

"Bye." Murphy murmured, he sounded dejected.

Bellamy waited for Murphy to pick up his coffee and started walking to the desk before moving himself. He followed Murphy.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

Murphy stared at him incredulously. He raised the hand without the coffee palms up in the obvious half-shrug that meant 'what the hell?' Bellamy still waited, he could at least do what Mbege asked, he couldn't give up only hours after accepting.

"I don't want you to help." Murphy said slowly, enunciating the words carefully. It was mocking, rude and even Bellamy could see it was borne of panicked aggression channeled into passive aggressive gestures.

So he asked a question he'd yet to ask today.

"Why?"

Murphy looked thrown, as though he'd expected Bellamy to back off after his display. He gaped a bit, mouth moving to form words that he couldn't apply sound to. He filled the silence with hesitant noises, "ums" and "err's that suggested he couldn't think of an excuse fast enough. Meaning the reason he didn't want Bellamy looking at it was an attempt to save face. That should have clued Bellamy into backing off, he was an asshole but he wasn't usually that cruel. And yet his nosiness got in the way.

" Because I don't need you to. That's what editing is for." Murphy finally replied.

It was feeble at best, pretty pathetic at worse.

"Man, I don't mind." He'd seen Mbege push for information, obviously Murphy wasn't going to just give in.

Murphy's lips pursed and his brows furrowed deeply. It was an odd expression for a young person. Bellamy could see his cheek bulging and moving from where his tongue pushed against it indecisively. Murphy bit his lip, scraping his teeth over it before soothing the wound with his tongue. Bellamy waited patiently.

"Fine. It's hastily done but whatever." Murphy shrugged. His attempt at casual came across stilted.

Bellamy followed him through the dim office until they reached Murphy's desk and he stole a chair from a neighbouring cubicle. He wheeled it to the desk besides Murphy. Murphy was leaned back in his chair, but tense. His tendons in his exposed forearm were sticking out. It was oddly eye-catching.

However his inquisitiveness lead him to turn to the computer instead. He read the article but kept stumbling over misspelt words and some he couldn't decipher. Some were just missed out letters, or letters replaced by ones that would produce similar sounds when spoken. Bellamy struggled through it, even at some laughable mistakes because it was obvious Murphy wouldn't appreciate it. Bellamy could feel the vibration through the floor of Murphy's jittering leg.

"Okay, so do you want me to edit it? Or do you want me to go through it with you?" Bellamy asked, trying to be serious and not like he was casting judgment because he actually wasn't. He knew how stress could make you type quicker and sometimes you hit the wrong key or don't hit the right one hard enough.

"Neither." Murphy said stubbornly. Bellamy sighed. His patience was stretching thin, he hardly tolerated Murphy when he didn't have an attitude.

"Right, we'll go through it if I get stuck, otherwise I'll just edit it." Bellamy snapped.

He edited spelling as he went along, the content was good so he didn't need to offer suggestions often. When he got stuck he asked Murphy who would scan it for ages as though he couldn't find the word Bellamy was asking about even when Bellamy highlighted the text. Bellamy watched him during this and could see Murphy was not doing this on purpose. It was the only reason he didn't start berating him for his slowness

It took an hour. It was ten to twelve before Murphy saved it and sent it off. Bellamy grabbed his coat but decided to leave with Murphy because he was fairly certain they got the same bus and he had questions. Murphy scowled when he caught on but he obviously wasn't going to try and outwait or outrun Bellamy.

The bus stop was only down the road since the office building was just off a main road. It was a small, underwhelming brick building, just bigger than some of the larger suburban houses, enough to house thirty people for work. There were a few either branches, mostly scattered across the country. It was a large magazine.

The walk there was silent. It was going to be a long night of waiting for the irregular and unreliable night bus. The bench was unoccupied so Bellamy sat down, leaving more than enough room for Murphy. He noticed the other only had a light, thin jacket. He frowned, it was freezing. Murohy remained stood up and a few feet away. Bellamy frowned and watched the streetlights dance off cars as they drove past. After a short while he spoke

"You can sit down you know, I don't bite." He kept his tone light so Murphy didn't become unnecessarily aggressive.

"Hmm" Murphy hummed but he did sit down. Their elbows brushed briefly until Murphy crossed his arms, bringing them in close to his chest. Shielding himself.

"So, erm." Bellamy didn't know how to broach it without enraging the other man. So he just came out with it. "Do you have trouble reading and writing?"

Murphy froze and then forcibly relaxed.

"I have... Dyslexia. It's why Mbege normally checks but he had to go today." Murohy admitted, his reluctance clear in every syllable uttered. Bellamy instantly felt guilt corrupt his veins for almost laughing earlier. He was a cruel, sick bastard.

But you didn't know, he reasoned with himself.

He shouldn't have to have known.

"Oh. It's awesome that you-"

"Honestly I don't care what you have to say. It's really awkward so just leave it." Murphy's bite reminded him of the limp bite of a dog with a sore tooth. Bellamy stopped himself from retorting the way he normally would and instead nodded. The quiet, occasionally interrupted by car engines and tyres on wet asphalt, sat between them.

The bus rumbled along a dozen or so minutes later and Bellamy stuck his hand out for it. Murphy stood too, bothumbling in their pockets for the week tickets almost everyone bought. They showed it to the driver, a friendly but tired looking man. Murphy jogged up the stairs which Bellamynakmost never bothered doing since there was barely anyone downstairs anyway. But he followed. He sat in the seats behind Murphy and noticed that Murphy didn't seem all toonhappy about that. There was a group of young men at the very back, they sounded jovial, and slightly drunk so Murphy only hissed at him.

"What the fuck are you following me for? You already squeezed out some gossip. Now sod off."

"Wait, no one else knows?"

"Just, me, Mbege, the editors and the boss." Murphy relayed, "Oh, and you."

"Oh. I won't tell anyone. I'm sorry for being a dick and basically forcing the information out of you."

Murphy seemed even more surprised at this than when Bellamy asked why.

He also seemed uncomfortable because he just shifted, nodded and showed his ear plugs to Bellamy before sticking them in his ear. Bellamy shrugged and played on his phone. He texted Octavia but figured she'd be asleep.

His phone did vibrate with a text.

Clarke: Hey, Murphy sent me his article. I was going to edit it now because I'm the only one with a free schedule and I don't want to water my free day but I'm exhausted. Would you have time? I'll owe you one.

Bellamy: I already proof read it and edited it with Murphy. Just hand it in.

Clarke: oh...? Alright. Thanks.

Bellamy: it's OK. Goodnight.

Clarke: Night

Bellamy looked up from his phone. Clarke would find it curious, and so would tell Raven, Soho would tell Wick and Finn. Wick would shrug, but Finn would tell anyone who listened.

He needed to think if an excuse quick.

"Hey! It's that short ass" one of the tipsy men said as he stumbled up the aisle towards them. "In thought I knew him."

Bellamy didn't recognise this guy, and he didn't consider himself short anyway. It was likely he was talking about Murphy. Who had his headphones in and was no doubt not listening.

"That punk? Oh m God, it's the queer."

Bellamy scoffed, how original. Then again, they were drunk. Another drunken mam approached. Bellamy noticed they were both tall, and stocky enough.

He tapped Murphy's shoulder just in case. Murohy jerked the buds out and whirled on him but stopped whatever he was about to do when he saw the two men.

"For fucks sake. What do you want?" Murphy sounded exasperated and angry. The men exchanged a look.

"Still so cocky even though your boyfriend isn't here acting bodyguard." One man chided. The other grinned.

"Whatever. Sit down before you fall down." Murphy grimaced in disgust at them.

He grimaced worse when one sat next to him and one on the seat in front. Bellamy tensed too, gripping the rail on the back of Murphy's seat. He hoped it wouldn't dissolve into violence.

"Get off" Murphy bit out suddenly and Bellamy let go of the rail. Then he realised Murphy was not talking to him but the other guy. The guy had laid his hand on Murphy's elbow, his grip tight. Murphy looked furious, energetic and a little afraid, his eyes darting from the hand to the guy, and the one in front. Bellamy stood, trying to maximise his height.

"Let go of him. Come on Murphy, it's our stop." it wasn't. They were actually a few stops from it, well from Bellamy's they were. Murphy stood, knocking the guys wrist with his free arm so the guy let go. The guy smirked. And didn't stand out of the way so Murphy could pass. Murphy glared but climbed up and over the seat. Bellamy reached out a hand to steady him on the gently swaying bus. Murphy gripped his wrist instead of his arm. The guy looked smug but didn't sabotage Murphy.

"Guess you got a new fella', better temper on him."

Better temper? Bellamy thinks, like a bully could talk.

Murphy huffed and rang the bell for the bus to stop. They descended the steps, Bellamy made sure Murphy went first and he kept a tight grip on the rail. They got off the bus and looked up to see the drunken idiots sticking their middle fingers up at them. Murphy returned the gesture and so did Bellamy despite his disdain.

"It wasn't my stop" Murphy said. "It was actually quite far from my stop."

"It's actually about five before mine."

"It's twenty past twelve. I said I'd get to the flat before one." Murphy said, it was only partially addressed to him, but mostly to Murphy himself. Bellamy felt bad, clearly Murphy was stressed about this.

"Why does it matter so much?" Bellamy asked and regretted it almost immediately.

Murphy's face went from sullen to angry rather quickly.

"Don't you already know enough about me?"

"No. I know your name, job, the bus you take and that you have dyslexia" Bellamy countered and Murphy seemed to deflate. His deflective question shot down in flames. He huffed a deep sigh.

"Right. If I don't make it on time Dillon won't be happy. It's not fair." Murphy answered but his fingers were tugging at his belt loops, thumbing and and pulling at the material.

"If you can't help it I'm sure he'll understand" Bellamy tried but Murphy shook his head.

"I'm going." Murphy said and turned and started walking. Bellamy followed a few paces behind seeing as it was the way he needed to go too. It didn't take long until Murphy calmed down enough that Bellamy felt it would be okay to walk besides him, so he did. They walked in the cold briskly but Bellamy could see Murphy shivering.

He feels bad about it but besides offering his coat like a concerned boyfriend he doesn't know what to do. All he knows is that if was Octavia he'd be wrestling her into the damn coat himself. Maybe he should offer it? Murphy had a longer walk than he did.

"Hey, do you want my coat? You look freezing."

Murphy cast him a stony look.

"If Dillon doesn't like me home late do you thin-" Murphy clamped his mouth shut. His jaw was so tense it looked like it might bend under pressure. "No. I'm fine thanks."

Bellamy was still caught up in the first part of the exchange. He was thinking heavily on it. Why would Murphy's room mate care? Coming in late maybe because some people set burgular alarms and stuff but wearing someone's coat?

"Why would Dillon care? He's just a roommate right?"

"No, Dillon is my partner." Murphy corrected.

"Oh. Dylan not Dillon. Your girlfriend." Bellamy nodded in understanding.

"No, my boyfriends." Murphy corrected again, his tone much sharper and his shivering more contained. Bellamy froze a bit, his brain taking a "oh, alright, didn't guess" moment.

He realised he had stopped speaking, and stopped glancing over at Murphy.

"What, you gotta problem?" Murphy demanded of him, his eyes narrowed. Bellamy hastily shook his head.

"What? No, no, I'm bisexual so it's not like I can judge you for it either." Bellamy explained in a rush. Murphy nodded, his eye brows raised at the admission. It clearly surprised him as much as Murphy's own confession had surprised Bellamy.

"Oh, this is the best way for me to go. Are you sure you don't want to borrow my coat and just bring it to work tomorrow?" Bellamy asked and saw Murphy hesitate, clearly contemplating the pros, cons and the long walk home. Murphy bit the inside of his cheek but his resolve slowly crumbled.

"Alright. Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just take it."

"Thanks" Murphy's voice was grateful and meek. Bellamy nodded and with brief goodbyes they left each other.

Bellamy went home.

Murphy went to his flat.


	2. Chapter 2

Murphy was there when Bellamy arrived to work that day. It was nine am exactly so he'd only just made it. He noticed his coat slung over his chair, rather neatly actually. Murphy looked a little pale and under the weather. One arm was wrapped comfortingly around his stomach. It was a little concerning. Mbege felt so too when he came in, a carry-all bag gripped by the handles and coat tied on his slim figure tightly. He was stood over Murphy and Murphy did seem to be leaning back more than usual. However, it didn't seem an angry kind of looming, more of a hovering. Like Mbege didn't know what to do or say. It was clear Mbege had been sent off, probably returning to his backpack journalism. Bellamy didn't know how to feel about that, because on one hand he could forget his awkward (but enticingly mysterious) promise to Mbege, and on the other, Murphy would be lonely too so he needed to keep his favour more than ever.

Mbege clapped his hand down on Murphy's shoulder and Murphy flinched away, first from the hand descending upon him, and then after his reaction registered with himself and Mbege. Mbege looked angry, he glared up across the office. Murphy was slightly pink in the cheeks and his mouth twisted down, like he was ashamed.

Bellamy's protective nature reared it's noble but ugly head.

Mbege took visibly deep breaths before seemingly apologizing. Murphy nodded and murmured something to him in reply. Their hands met briefly and left each other's again. Almost like they were afraid someone would notice. They weren't exactly wrong.

Mbege left with a single backwards glance. Murphy didn't stop watching until Mbege had left. It was actually touching to watch.

Murphy swallowed and returned to work. Bellamy got started. He finished up his article. Proofed and sent it ahead. Now, he was at a loss. He could do some research into politicians who openly supported feminism and proved it. Or he could go talk to Murphy.

"You look rough" Bellamy commented as he dragged his chair to Murphy's desk. He sat down in front of it and sw Murphy's glare. It was one part disbelieving and mostly unfiltered pessimism.

"I didn't get home on time. It was dark in the flat." Murphy's short sentences punctuated a clear hidden message. Bellamy wondered if it had to do with Dillon. He thought it might. So he asked, best way he knew how, upfront.

"Did Dillon hit you?"

Murphy froze and his face resembled a kicked puppy's. Bellamy felt a physical clenching of his heart.

"Did he?" Bellamy asked when the silence stretched thin, both leaning forwards in their chairs, Murphy hunching down, Bellamy drawn in. Murphy shook his head. Bellamy scowled deeply, his lips twisting into a snarl.

"Murphy!" He whispered because he didn't want anyone overhearing, he wouldn't put Murphy through that. He thinks Murphy might just quit if he did.

"No" Murphy replies, just as hushed. His shoulders were raised like defensive hackles, his fingers clawed into his jeans until the material was wrinkled and pulled taut around his thigh. Bellamy hoped no one was attempting to listen in.

"He does!"

"No, he doesn't. Stop it Blake, fuck off." Murphy sounded venomous and Bellamy leaned away. He had to calm down and think about this clearly. How could he help Murphy? How could he get Murphy to let him? Did he tell Mbege or did he already know? Bellamy hoped not because how could you leave your friend if you did?

A commotion near the stairs distracted them both. Lincoln and Octavia were trying to come up with a guy Bellamy didn't know, but unlike his sister and her boyfriend, this man did not have a visitors pass dangling from his neck. Bellamy pushed his chair back so he could see better. The man was talking angrily with a guy who had hold of his wrist, clearly stopping him coming any further. They were on the stairs above Lincoln and Octavia and so were preventing them coming any further as well. Octavia was not known for her patience which the guy learnt when she growled something out. However, the guy did not back away but instead snapped back at her. The guy was much smaller than Lincoln, more on par with Bellamy or Murphy but still he did not seem cowed even as Lincoln stepped before her protectively. It was one of the reasons Bellamy had come to trust Lincoln with his sister. It didn't matter how big or small the threat was he was always there to defend his sister, but without fighting her battles. It was something Bellamy could never master regrettably.

Murphy came around his desk but paused when he reached Bellamy's chair. His hand instantly sought something to cling to. It happened to be Bellamy's shoulder, his hand tight like a vice, painful enough that Bellamy grimaced.

"I want to see John Murphy" the guy said loud enough for most people to hear. Heads swivelled to Murphy who tightened his grip. Bellamy winced again. The stranger looked over, spotted them, Murphy's hand on his shoulder and smiled. It was too wide, too plastic. It was a parody of a fond, friendly grin he'd seen couples share. Hell, Clarke and Finn shared those looks when Raven wasn't watching.

"Look, he's just over there. Let me speak to him." The guy continued arguing been though the security worker explained that he just needed to get a pass.

"He's done this on purpose." He hears Murphy mutter and can't help but hope it was meant for him to hear as opposed to thinking out loud. Then Murphy let's go of his shoulder and walks towards the guy and security. He interrupts the conversation and the man and he share a look before leaving. Octavia gives the guy a disgusted look as he passes.

Bellamy followed them, unable to, in good conscience, leave Murphy with the guy. Octavia grinned at him, ready to greet him but when he just squeezed her outstretched hand instead of accepting the hug her face fell. She looked confused and he knew her and Lincoln would share a look. He could apologize to O the second he came back.

He finds Murphy and the guy, Dillon, on the street. Or, in the alley side of the building near the bins. Dillon looked beyond reasonable, his face was red. Murphy too was flushed with anger.

But Dillon had Murphy by his shirt against the rough brick wall. He was bracing his forearms along Murphy's chest, effectively pinning Murphy to the wall. Murphy had his hands pushing against Dillon's shoulder and chest.

"I told you to be home on time or I'd have to punish you. You always work late, it's not fair." Dillon pulled Murphy off, and then on to the wall to emphasise his point.

"I tried. I told you, if I hadn't had to skive off work because of what you did-"

"I said I was sorry, you're making a big deal out of this."

"You wrenched my shoulder!" Murphy spat. "I could barely move it. I couldn't write with it. So I was late on my deadline but I'm always early. You know why it's important for me to do so. And because I was punished for hiding what you did, you try to humiliate me. Well fuck you Dillon." Murphy feistily pushed his head forward, squaring up to the other.

Dillon had an ugly, twisted expression upon his face. His eyebrows cut severe lines into his already angular features. He pulled back one arm and Bellamy rushed forwards. Before Dillon could even think about swinging his arm back down, Bellamy had a crushing hold on his wrist and he wasn't letting up. Dillon rounded on him like a cornered animal. His hold on Murphy broke but his fist came arcing towards Bellamy's face until Murphy grabbed it.

"Don't."

Bellamy and Murphy stared at each other, aware they'd spoken insyc.

Dillon wrenched himself from their grips, adjusted his jacket and glared at Bellamy.

"He's fucking yours then." Turning on Murphy; "you better get your stuff before my shift is over."

"It's my flat." Murphy didn't sound certain about that. He also sounded like there was a lump in his throat. Something thick, like grief, clogging his throat and sticking to his words. Bellamy took a step closer to him. Inadvertently between the ex-partners.

Dillon, with a scoff, stormed away like a man possessed. And Murphy crumbled against the wall. His back collided with the wall with a thump. One hand rested on the opposite hip, arm laying over his stomach. The other covered his eyes. Bellamy tentatively took abfes steps forward. He kept taking them until his arm brushed the wall, and Murphy's elbow nearly touched his stomach. He reached out a hand and gently placed a hand on Murphy's upper arm. Murphy pulled away but Bellamy just did it again. This time Murphy did notbshaks him off, but instead side-shuffled a step closer. Neither said a word, what could be said?

Murphy was pale, his eyes red like the tears were fighting desperately to push through. But Murphy wasn't letting them. Bellamy looked around the grey concrete, and orange-red brick to give the younger man a semblance of privacy. Huddled close as they were, Bellamy could hear his ragged breathing, soft enough but obviously painful. He moved his hand from Murphy's bicep to his shoulder and round. Murphy stiffened but didn't shove Bellamy away like he expected.

"I'm not going to cry."

"I didn't say you were." Bellamy replied gently. He had some idea of what went on behind closed doors, and he couldn't find it within him to find Murphy's prickly behaviour as anything more than saddening. It was all defense, not an attack. A man who was trying not to get hurt by lashing out first. Bellamy tightened his arm so Murphy was pulled in, his side flush to Bellamy's front. Murphy turned in, his body relaxing. He allowed himself a few seconds of gathering strength before pulling away completely.

"I told you I wouldn't cry."

Bellamy nodded. He'd seen Murphy need the comfort, he wasn't as strong as he claimed to be.

"Do you need a place to stay?" Bellamy asked but Murphy shook his head, his lips drawn together as he thought.

"I have Mbege's spare keys in case he loses them travelling. I'll just let him know I'm staying there."

"You and him are close?"

"He's got my back." Murphy gave his non-answer with a blank tone. Bellamy inclined his head. He reached into his pocket and drew out his reporters cards. He gave them to interviewee's in case more information came up. It head his work cell number, his work cell was the most reliable way to get a hold of him anyway. He held it out and Murphy took it, their finger's touching ever so slightly. He looked down at it, drawing it close to his face.

Dyslexia!

Damn it. He forgot about it. But Murphy was mouthing the numbers. Maybe he didn't have an issue with numbers, just words.

"The bottom number." Bellamy said, ensuring there was no pity in his tone. Or compromise, if Murphy needed him, he'd better call. Murphy nodded and slipped it into his pocket. Bellamy walked away and he heard Murphy follow him.

+++ 6pm

Murphy had left early today seeing as his next article hadn't been assigned. Bellamy was finishing up early too. He'd go home, eat, shower and go to bed. Tomorrow was Sunday and his day off. He would have gone out tonight with Clarke, Wells, Octavia, Lincoln and Jasper and Monty usually but since his late night and the hope (or worry) that Murphy might call prompted him to go home. So he left, got the bus and went home. The flat he lived in was an alright size, Clarke had stayed on the couch for her first week in the city and it hadn't been cramped, until Golden Boy Finn rescued her with a rented flat his dad owned. Bellamy should have stopped her, would have if he'd known how Finn and Clarke's relationship would evolve. It was a bit plain he supposed, with basic furniture and supplies. Except his bookshelf, which was full of books on anything but mostly mythology. Especially Greek mythology. His film case was interesting too. The first film on the top shelf wsas '300' and he had only watched it the other night but it was good enough to watch again. So he plugged it in and let the opening trailers run while he checked his kitchen. He decided that a simple meal of cereal would do, he wasn't that hungry anyway. He slumped on the sofa with it and played the film. He kicked his shoes off, shed his a jacket and put his phone on the sofa arm before stretching out to watch the film.

He was just drifting off, slowly spooning the dregs of his second bowl (okay so he was hungrier than he thought) when his phone began screeching with the annoying bell jingle. He started up and tried to grab it but only succeeded in knocking itbto the floor. He slowly tried to scoop it off the floor, cursing his stupidity when he sees it's an unrecognised number. He accepted the call.

"Bellamy, you said... You said you'd help right? Well I can't get him to go away. He keeps telling me to open the door but I can't-"

-A loud thump-

"I don't want to call the police so could you maybe help?" Murphy paused for only a second, "please."

"I'm on my way. Give me the address."

Murphy rattled off the address whilst Bellamy yanked his shoes on, allowing the bowl to spill onto the floor. He stood, grabbed his jacket and sprinted out the door and down the stairs, jumping down the bottom steps, the reverberation rattling up his knees.

He swung out of the door, and into the street. He ran in front of the cab carelessly, relieved to see it was empty. He stepped in and snapped out the address. The phone was still pinned to his ear and Murphy was rambling down his ear. It didn't sound like panic but it was definitely fearful.

Bellamy spoke back as calm as could whilst panting, his heart racing like mad. He didn't know exactly why he flew like a bat out of hell at the call. Dillon was outside of Mbege's and Murphy was inside but he couldn't have stopped himself. He thinks it must be the hero complex Octavia warned him about. Either way, he was going to beat the shit out of this sorry excuse of a boyfriend. Goddamn bastard.

Murphy was also dwindling in his ranting until neither were speaking and were both listening to the other breathe as Dillon shouted and banged the door.

"I'm on my way Murphy."


	3. Chapter 3

He chucked the money at the driver. It couldn't have been more than fifteen dollars and he'd chucked a twenty. No angry shouts followed him so presumed he'd got it right. He sprinted into the apartment building. He had to buzz in to go past the lobby. Which meant Dillon had too and Murphy had let him in. Murphy answered the buzz but Bellamy didn't listen, just yanked the door open. The call was still on but his phone was in his pocket. He'd managed to shrug his jacket on though.

The elevator would be quicker that running up six flights of stairs so he slammed his hand on to the button it hurt his palm but that didn't matter. He was bouncing on the balls of his heels for the three minute journey. Then he was off, quicker than a jack rabbit to find the correct flat. He found it, Dillon kicking the door rhythmically.

"Oi" he shouted. Dillon turned on him, his lip curling as he recognised who was shouting at him. He turned to face Bellamy.

"Piss off. It's nothing to do with you."

Dillon's earlier words echoed in his head. He let his own lips pull into a snarl of disgust. He squared himself, ready if Dillon charged him.

"Didn't you say he was mine earlier, to get his stuff and leave?" Bellamy tried to sound sardonic, falsely bewildered but he knew his anger strained it. Dillon's face shut down of all emotion, what remained was cold and calculated.

"Then why is he not at yours? He clearly doesn't want you." Dillon looked triumphant, like he'd scored something over Bellamy. It sounded as though Dillon thought they'd been having an affair or something stupid like that. Bellamy took his own victory from this, the knowledge he knew more than this utter tool.

"So why did he call me earlier, asking me to come round?"

He knew it wouldn't help anything, especially not Murphy but he was too angry to care. As Dillon shouted in rage and began thundering towards him, he clenched his fists to fight, the door unlocked and opened. It was left open but Murphy didn't come out. Dillon changed direction and entered the flat, Bellamy not far behind. Murphy was waiting by the corridor leading away from the living room, clearly willing to run down it. Dillon had stopped in the center, but Bellamy stuck to the outside of the room, edging along the walls to get to Murphy.

"Get out." Murphy said to Dillon, his voice firm, only wavering towards the end. Dillon shook his head.

"I didn't mean it." Dillon tried. "You can come home, I don't mind, I want you to."

Murphy shuddered. Bellamy came closer.

"Get out Dillon. I don't want to come home. I'm staying here." Murphy stated, his voice was calmer than Bellamy's would be. It was commendable. However, he could see Murphy balling his fists up, then releasing them, then clenching and then again. Dillon's eyes closed as though he was in pain before he opened them. His brown eyes were burning hot, like fire consuming wood. He turned and walked out, slamming the door violently behind him. Murphy walked to the couch before slumping down. Bellamy waited a few minutes, watching Murphy's shoulders shake a bit before walking over himself. He laid a hand down on Murphy's shoulder before sitting next to him. Murphy leaned back on the sofa and into Bellamy. His head coming to rest on Bellamy's ribs side. So Bellamy sat back too until Murphy's head was on his chest, his arm over his shoulders.

"You came" Murphy breathed unsteadily. "Why?"

"I couldn't let Dillon hurt you again." Bellamy answered truthfully. Domestic abuse was low, the victim was someone you were supposed to love. Who put their faith in you. It was similar to child abuse in despicableness. But at least a domestic abuse victim didn't depend on you to survive in the first place.

"You don't even like me. You've spoke to me more in the past two days than you have in the past two years." A slight over exaggeration really.

"I do like you Murphy." Bellamy said and it wasn't truly a lie. He hadn't always liked Murphy. As of today, he hoped that would change. So he wanted to like Murphy and he was well on the way to doing so.

"Why are you being nice to me? No one is nice unless they want something in return."

Bellamy's breath caught.

That was so sad, he can't even comprehend how tragic that really is. It hurts.

"I don't want anything from you Murphy. I promise."

Murphy sniffed and finally relaxed into Bellamy's half-hug. Bellamy felt the warmth of the leaner man and minutely relaxed. It was fine he'd gotten here in time, it was all okay. Murphy wasn't hurt, Bellamy wasn't (except his reeling heart) and even Dillon wasn't. He'd done a good thing. Now there was a problem though; Dillon wasn't going to leave Murphy alone. And he knew Mbege's address. Which meant Murphy was always at risk. Bellamy might have a solution that could be incredibly awkward or both of them whilst being safe. That, in the end, mattered the most.

He was never promising Mbege something again.

"I can't believe I agreed to this." Murphy muttered as they stood on opposite sides of the elevator heading to Bellamy's flat. Bellamy bit his lip and sucked on it. The lack of conversation was awkward, not to say there was a lack of speaking however. Murphy took any and every opportunity to make comments that were useless, occasionally mean and wholly intended to distract from Murphy's panic earlier. No doubt Murphy was embarrassed.

"Well you did, so shut up."

Bellamy winced when Murphy did just that, his head falling. He bit his lip, harder this time.

"I didn't mean that. Talk if you want to." The word 'sorry' wouldn't come easily. Even though he wanted to say it so badly.

Murphy nodded dully. Bellamy swallowed around a groan. He fisted his hands into his pockets and slouched. The elevator jerked to a stop as it was prone to do and Murphy adjusted his overnight bag (having left some of his stuff at Mbege's) but waited for Bellamy to step out first. Bellamy led him down the thin hall to the light teal door that opened up into his home. It was unusual having an almost literatal stranger entering with him. No one but himself, friends and family stepped foot into his sanctuary.

He let Murphy stand in the living room uncertainly, whilst he picked up the bowl and spoon he'd dropped earlier. He did so sheepishly. Murphy gave him an hesitantly understanding, tragic nod and downcast eyes. Bellamy tried to offer a smile in return, a no problems at all smile but it was weak. Once he'd rinsed the bowl and spoon, and mopped up the milk spillage with a dish cloth, he decided to tackle the events of the night head on.

He gestured for Murphy to sit down as he reclaimed his seat that he'd abandoned about an hour and a half ago. Murphy sat on the very end of the couch, the bag he held between his calves. He was leaning forwards so his elbows rested mid thigh, slightly hunched up was not a good look on anyone. Bellamy tried to think of ways to make Murphy more comfortable but he could think of none. The TV- still on and stuck on the DVD menu, Gerard Butler holding a sword and yeling- cast a yellow glow on the room. The shadows it cast on Murphy's bent over form seemed to illustrate how thin the man was. He was very slight and Bellamy couldn't decide if he was trembling or if it was just flickering light from the TV. It was likely trembling- it was trembling. Getting worse until Murphy had to expel the extra energy, his hands coming to cradle the back of his head. His fists clumped his hair together and closed on the strands, grip tightening until Bellamy could see his white knuckles and worried he'd hear hair separating from his scalp. Bellamy moved closer, reached his hands up and laid them on Murphy's gently. He laced his fingers into the gaps left by Murphy's and tried to get Murphy to let go. After a few seconds Murphy's grip receded and his hands were easily pulled forwards until Murphy had to twist to keep his arm in a comfortable position. Bellamy turned his pull on the other's fingers into a hold on the man's hands. He tried to give him a reassuring look. This time Murphy had cried, slow tears, eyes pinking slightly. Bellamy swallows down a rough ball of rage at Dillon. Bellamy pushed himself forwards again but stopped before their knees touched. Instead he pulled on Murphy's hands carefully, Murphy allowed himself to be pulled towards Bellamy, rising to a knee, one foot on the floor, and into Bellamy's embrace. Bellamy kneeled up too and wrapped his arms around the other young man. Murphy shivered in his arms and relaxed into the hold, letting himself cry, Bellamy could feel the wetness on his cheek. Bellamy didn't cry, not because he didn't want to, but because he needed to be strong again.

"Have you ate?" Bellamy asked and Murphy nodded. But with his arms around Murphy's ribs Bellamy can feel how underpasses they are. So he offers food anyway but Murphy refuses and Bellamy can't force him to eat.

"Were you watching a film when I called?" Murphy pulled away with the change of topic. He was clearly uncomfortable. Bellamy couldn't let him off that easily though.

"What're you going to do about Dillon? That can't keep happening."

"I don't know."

"Murphy... You can't go back to him of he's hurting you like that."

Murphy's face changed, his expression turning stormy. His lips pressed into a very thin line.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do. You don't get to do that too."

That caught Bellamy unguarded. The unspoken comparison was like an ice bucket poured down his shirt whilst he was asleep. He squashed down his instinctual, defensive anger and apologetically acknowledged the statement.

"I'm sorry. But he can't control you either, it's not right."

"You don't know Dillon. You don't understand." Murphy stressed each word. Bellamy nodded. He didn't know Dillon, maybe he didn't understand. So he'd get Murphy to make him.

"Alright. Explain it to me Murphy. Make me understand." The command was maybe not the best way to approach it but orders always seemed to pierce Murphy's skin better than requests. It was probably a bad habit Murphy should work on.

"Dillon helped me, okay? He's not a good man but neither am I and he needs me." Murphy's face was screwed up, like the admission was bitter. Bellamy didn't know how he was supposed to understand anything from such a sparse offering. He nodded though, he understood it must be difficult. It only served to make Murphy sigh at him unhappily.

"I was...not in the best home situation when I was seventeen. Neither was he. He helped me a lot, I helped him. When I wasn't with Mbege I was with him." Murphy added.

"Situation...?" Bellamy questioned.

"My mum drank all the time, blamed me for my father dying when I was eleven. But if that's all you got from that maybe I should just fuck off back to Dillon."

Bellamy flung himself up, standing and backing away. The shot hurt a lot more than he would admit out loud. Yet he had the feeling Murphy could see it in his physical recoil, had no doubt intended it to be so effectively devastating.

"Don't you dare. Murphy for fucks sake, I'm not the bad guy. Stop acting like I am." Bellamy scolded, his voice getting louder. Murphy stood too, he dropped any trace of meekness and his arrogance rolled in. Even though Bellamy knew it was mostly an act he let himself be fooled. It was a convincing enough cover he could blame Murphy for it later.

"Why?" Murphy challenged, "You both say the wrong thing. Both are assholes."

"Dillon is an abusive coward." Bellamy retorted. Murphy twitched, it looked as though he was ready to tackle Bellamy and changed his mind. Bellamy waited, ready to intercept any attack. None was forthcoming however. They glared at each other across the room and Bellamy couldn't figure out why he didn't just kick Murphy out, he owed him nothing.

"Why do you have to fight me?" Bellamy asked and Murphy frowned deeper.

"I don't know."

They were both trying to sleep in Bellamy's queen sized bed. Luckily they were slim enough that they didn't touch.

It was... Not uncomfortable per say, but it wasn't exactly a love fest either.

Eventually Murphy fell asleep and Bellamy settled down too. He had his back to Murphy so when a hand touched his back he almost leapt out of the bed. And it wasn't just a hand either, soon could feel Murphy snuggled into his back. Bellamy forced himself to relax and allow Murphy to cuddle into him.

He fell asleep, warm and comfortable.


End file.
